


Regrets

by Gem_Gem



Category: Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-22
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 17:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3986764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gem_Gem/pseuds/Gem_Gem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laurie stands some distance away. Her face obscured and her dark hair ruffling in a breeze he does not feel.</p><p>Disclaimer: Characters belong to Alan Moore</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

**Author's Note:**

> I love dream scenes!
> 
> This is something I thought up a while ago, not sure if I will continue it on as an actual drawn-out story or keep it as a little short one...depends on feedback I suppose and if I come up with a good enough plot to be able to carry it on.
> 
> I hope most of you reading have read the Watchmen Graphic Novel and don't go asking me who Sam and Sandra are...
> 
> *Written on 25th January 2011.  
> I recall being inspired by another Watchmen fanfiction with a nicely written dream sequence
> 
> Posted on DA

_~He’s in Antarctica again. Snow ripples and twirls like a sea around him. The soft yet solid texture moving around his bare feet. He’s in just his pyjamas, yet he is not cold. Does not feel the chill of the ice forming on the tips of his fingers. His skin is discoloured, but it does not concern him._

_Laurie stands some distance away. Her face obscured and her dark hair ruffling in a breeze he does not feel. One hand is held up, fingers spread and reaching. The snow encircles her, misting her against the pallid horizon._

_A sudden movement off to his right draws his attention. The snow there is scarlet and he watches as it draws itself up into a bloody mass. Watches it grow and swirl into a familiar figure._

_The body looms closer, ink and blood interlinking. Tattered shoes, splashed in crimson drag through gleaming snow. A trail of red left in their wake. The snowflakes about them change, become crusted, drifting in clumps in a curtain of white. Hands, dirty and nail-bitten, crack and twist within purple leather. Curling inside. Causing deep creases._

_The body lurches abruptly. Bones snapping and crunching, a wheezing breath dancing from withered skinless lips. More snow falls. Sticking to the mangled form as it shudders. It’s hands outstretched as it wails. Roars._

_He wants to scream. To shield himself from the sight. But something prevents him. Makes him watch. Keeps him frozen in place as the snow falls thicker still, whirling before his eyes and against his body. Laurie is lost from sight._

_The face is unexpectedly close. Flickering between visages. That of a man and the familiar symmetric mask. Skin and latex drip and melt into one another as it gurgles wildly, spitting thick droplets of hot blood over him. Hollow, black eyes gape at him and skeleton hands claw._

_He falls backwards, the snow half swallowing him. Above him the figure seethes and growls, teeth chattering and grinding._

_Somewhere Laurie is shouting, the sound a distant echo._

_“Daniel.” The decayed mouth hardly moves but the word is still present, rasping loudly, making him tremble._

_A bony hand closes over his throat, squeezes tightly and makes him choke, makes him struggle and thrash. And all he sees is white. White and black and red and that face. Flickering and dissolving before him as it consumes~_

Sam lurched, the scream swallowed with gulps of air as he grasped the bed sheets and shook. Sandra hushed him from her place at his side, her gentle hands touching his shoulders, concern illuminated by moonlight. Blinking, Sam let her embrace him and took even breaths, one hand lifting to thread through sweat soaked hair. He sighed and turned into Sandra’s shoulder with an embarrassed smile, trying to ignore the sweat rolling down his spine.

“Sorry…” he whispered, placing a feather light kiss on her chin before pulling away and throwing the blankets aside. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” 

Sam nodded with a reassuring smile as he crossed over to the bathroom, flicking on the harsh light and squinting before shutting the door behind him and leaning against the sink with a deep exhale. Rubbing one hand down his face he looked up at the mirrored cabinet above the sink, his reflection haggard and bleak. Bringing his fingers to his hair he fingered the bleached strands and eyed it tiredly. Why blonde anyway? Just reminded him of…

Scoffing to himself he dropped his hand and turned the tap, splashing his face with cool water and then pressing the towel against his skin. Folding the towel, he turned to leave again but paused with a frown, turning back to the mirror and titling his head up. There on his throat lay a red handprint.


End file.
